Pensée Terrible
by DemiHuman123
Summary: Ever had one of those thoughts that haunt you for what seems like forever? A terrible thought could have a terribly long career. ONESIDED Remy x Linguini. SLASH. COMPLETED.
1. Chapitre Un

**Pensée Terrible – Chapitre Un**

By _DemiHuman123_

**----------------------------------------**

I don't own the Pixar movie Ratatouille. I don't own Linguini, Collette, Skinner, the rats, or the awesomeness that is Remy. Disney, Pixar, and Brad Bird own them, so nobody better come and sue me because I got a copyright up so I'm fine. I think.

**----------------------------------------**

**RATING: **PG – One-Sided Slashiness

**INSPIRATIONS: **I believe that the entire album "Haunted" by POE was the inspiration for this entire three-shot fic. If you haven't heard it yet, hear it!

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Linguini stood behind the counter, tapping his fingers in rhythm against the hard wood top, eyes focused quietly on the clock resting against the side of the wall, watching every single moment the seconds hand moved forward. His anxiety and impatience increasing with every tick and every tock…

Tick…

9:59:53 pm

Tock…

9:59:54 pm

Tick…

9:59:55 pm

Tock…

9:59:56 pm

Tick…

9:59:57 pm

Tock…

9:59:58 pm

The red head gritted his teeth excessively, clasping his fingers down into a fist, and quickly darting his vision back and forth from that same clock to the front door.

One last tick… one last tock…

The moment the time turned 10:00 pm exactly, he lunged over the counter and began a sprint toward the door. He shot by each and every dining table, jumping over the loose chairs that were in the way, and even sliding under an outside table that he had brought inside. Of course though, he completely misjudged his own speed. Upon making it toward the door, his shoe tripped over something and caused him to fall face first down onto the ground. His body curled in anticipation to fall which only led him to collapse into a rolling motion. This would inevitably lead him to slam against the front door, and finally slide down onto the cool floor.

Still, he took this to his advantage, reached his arm up, and locked the door.

After lying on the floor for a few seconds (and rubbing on the sore part of his head), he pulled himself up into a sitting position and gazed over at what he had tripped on.

Turns out a small brown, and somewhat chubby rat, lay in his path. The animal was perfectly all right. It had only dropped the food it was carrying, in exchange for covering itself in fear. Especially since the food it was carrying was a rather large (and now crushed) croissant.

Linguini sighed heavily and picked himself up from off the floor. "Little Chef's relatives I guess…"

The brown mouse quickly brought its face out from under its paws, and eyed the tall human slowly. Instead of scurrying for its life in fear with its tail between its legs, it automatically recognized the man and waved. By what Linguini could see, it almost looked like it was smiling and saying "hi". Unfortunately, that statement would only come out as a short chirp that was barely audible to humans.

Linguini cocked an eyebrow and continued to observe. The little brown mouse finished its little wave, collected whatever food it could salvage and escaped quietly into a hole in the ceiling. Linguini just coughed- and turned off the open sign.

The strange confusion that had appeared over his face was now gone, replaced with a great big smile and new found respect for life… at least until the day after tomorrow at 8:00 am.

"Hey Little Chef," he yelled with hands formed into a cup, "we're closed now!"

A small and almost silent squeak could be heard from the distance in the kitchen. Scampering was the next sound perceived as a small grey rodent popped out from behind the kitchen doors. It trotted on its legs calmly looking around the bistro to see if anything was amiss or if anybody else was there. Seeing no one around, it gave another quick squeak and began a path toward the human.

Within a few seconds, said rat scampered into the boy's pants and began a trek up his leg.

Linguini shot out a burst of laughter as the Little Chef, known as Remy to the rat colony, quickly climbed up the legs and onto the abdominal area. The man's laughter only increased steadily and easily until it become too difficult to breath. Thankfully, his laughter subsided as Remy reached the neck and pulled himself out of the collar, and onto his shoulder.

"How many times," Linguini began as he caught his breath, "do I have to tell you? Just go up on the outside next time, will ya?"

Remy chuckled to himself at the little statement from his human friend. "But its fun to listen to you laugh," the little chef said in his own little language, "you humans make the weirdest noises."

Linguini gave out his own little chuckle too. "Sometimes I wish I could figure out what you're saying. Certainly make life, especially this job, easier."

He then pulled up his right arm sleeve to reveal several small bites and scratch marks in a row, before then pointing to his forehead that seemed to create a rather strange road trail to his hair.

Remy huffed a bit and gave a slap toward the red heads ear. "Hey, so sue me! Sometimes I gotta get up there in a hurry. You don't make it much easier either."

So they both finished their little squabble with that, and began their closing duties; specifically money.

Linguini looked down at the cash register behind the counter and began to slowly panick.

"I hope I do this right…"

Colette was usually the one to take care of the money matters. She would usually end up counting down the till while Remy and Linguini would clean and get everything prepared for the next morning. Sadly, Colette had gone home a few hours earlier from a sore throat that would later on tomorrow turn into a full blown sickness. Not a bad sickness mind you, but enough to incapacitate her for a day or two.

Tomorrow was Sunday though, which meant that Le Ratatouille, the bistro that they all owned, would be closed. This not only gave enough time for Colette to recover (which she will by Monday morning thanks to Linguini getting up at 8:00 am to take care of her), but it also gave Linguini infinite time to figure out the money dilemma.

"Okay," he sighed, "I can do this."

He punched in a couple of buttons on the register and the till popped right out, causing Linguini to jump back in surprise, hitting the wall behind him. He had used the register before, but when it was completely silent and that dinging sound popped out, it was quite shocking, especially for Linguini. Remy luckily, knowing how accident prone the youth was, gave a deep cling onto his shoulder.

After the initial recovery, the human gave another quick sigh, he took the till and credit receipts collected from the days events. With that, he made his way into the kitchen, which in the corner had a little desk designed for the counting and recording of the day's revenue.

He sat down and sighed once more. That made three within five minutes.

"How about some music," he asked the little rat perched on his shoulder?

Remy looked over at the radio sitting above them on the windowsill. He glanced at the boy and nodded, jumping off his shoulder and climbing the small rope that had been purposely tied on the radios antenna for such times. Even rats need a little music now and then. He reached the sill and turned the knobbed to the on position of the small FM radio, and listened for a voice.

_Bzzzz….zzzz….zzzbbbzzzz…_

Nothing… he turned the tuner a bit…

_Zzz__**zzB**__zz__**z**__z… z__**zzzbz**__zz__**b**__bz… __**C'est dangereux**__…zz__**zzb**__zzzz… __**je finirai son jeu?**_

Something finally… The rat easily fine tuned it onto a clearer frequency. The announcer came in perfectly then.

"_**C'était Orange Lounge avec L'amour est Orange. Voici maintenant une autre fille plutôt populaire ; Poe avec sa chanson merveilleuse, Pensée Terrible."**_

A song had just ended, and another one was about to begin apparently. Remy had never heard of any of these artists, but some of them had such beautiful voices, even if he could only understand some of the language.

The beat of the song began after a somewhat odd screeching guitar raged at the beginning and the voices came in not too soon after.

"_**A terrible thought has moved into my mind, like an unwanted roommate drunk on wine. It feeds on my happiness: won't pay the rent. I must take proper measures to evict it."**_

The rat quietly nodded his head along the beats and lyrics of the song, doing his best to relax a bit after having a rather long day of cooking by him self for the most part. It was nice to have a moment of peace to let the body recharge, if only slightly. But then again, he remembered the other person who was there with him.

The music did not seem to help at all for poor Linguini.

With pencil in hand and papers all over the table, he was simply struggling with everything. Checks, credit card receipts, tabs, cash, coin, and not an adding machine anywhere. Apparently, Colette and Anton had believed that counting everything by hand was the perfect way to get everything right. It also, according to Colette, "helps strengthen your mind and keep wits sharp! A good host should always be on his toes Linguini, Oi?"

He was sharp, and always on his toes. After all, it was his personality to always be careful and cautious, though the repercussions of these careful anxiety tactics always seemed to be his downfall. He was already in panic mode. It was the color rouge.

The tall man rubbed his forehead profusely, hoping to catch some sort of brain surge.

Remy saw this, and decided, "hey, I'm already a chef. Let's see if I can go for a twofer and be an accountant."

Steadily scurrying down the radio rope, he made his way toward the money and simply observed. He was always a smart rodent that caught on quickly to everything, including simple arithmetic. Slowly but surely he was able to completely separate this from that, and whosit to whatsit, making everything seem so simple, even a child could do it. He did no counting, only organizing.

Linguini did his own observation of this, and smiled gently.

"Wow," he whispered to himself, "what can't he do?"

In a matter of seconds, silence filled the air, with the exception of the same song that was still playing on the radio. The table became perfectly organized and clean.

"_**I don't care what you've done, I don't care who you've won. I know in the end you've had your fun…"**_

Linguini laughed. "I can't believe you! This is just amazing! You're definitely smarter than me!"

He laughed at the little rat only to stop momentarily to realize he had insulted himself. Instead of wallowing though, he just scratched the back of his head and chuckled. The Little Chef laughed in return.

Upon hearing this little squeak, an evil smile formed over the humans face.

The rat cocked an eyebrow, looking up at Linguini and watching his face change from shy and slightly embarrassed, to scheming and planning; something the little rodent isn't used to seeing on this specific man.

"_**A terrible thought could have a terribly long career…"**_

"What," Remy asked him in his rat language.

It didn't seem to help as Linguini brought one hand down around the rat. At first, Remy thought he was going to pick him up, but was soon surprised to see that the grasp was only there to hold him down. Another hand came from the side…

"Wha-wha-wha-wha!?"

The Little Chef's thoughts ran rampant in shock of what might soon happen. Then again, he wasn't quite sure what was going to happen next.

Human fingers came down and grazed Remy's belly fur lightly. At first, it didn't seem much of anything, almost feeling nice, like a little pet. Then again, this rat was not as much domesticated as he was independent. But that's beside the point. The point was that the grazing picked up in speed and endurance. That strange feeling was soon replaced with something else. It came on in full force…

…and the rat burst into laughter.

It was powerful: Shocks and quakes of the body experiencing a strange sensation that inevitably caused more laughter to escape the rat's mouth.

Linguini's smile widened as he continued. The squeaks that emanated translating into obvious laughter, caused his own funny voice to come out.

Something the boy had remembered from a few weeks back. When he had first met Remy, he needed to know all the info, so one day when the Little Chef was not around, he went down to the library and picked out a book on rat anatomy. While most of it was boring, and almost sleep inducing, there was one part of that book that stuck out in his mind. Rats and humans do share one thing in common: ticklish skin. A rat, it turns out, has the almost exact same ticklish flesh as a human. Finding the right spot will cause a rat to burst out into hysterics, which sound like high pitch noises.

"Why," Remy thought to himself as he continued to laugh in bursts, "why can't I stop laughing!?"

The only sounds surrounding the room was the laughter of a rat, the laughter of a human, and singing of a woman.

"_**I know that I don't want you in my mind, cause your breaking my stride! You poisonous vine! You're strangling me inside! You're breaking my stride!"**_

Suddenly, a sharp pain erupted from Linguini's finger. His laughter halted to detect what it was. Apparently, Remy had bitten down to stop the tickling. The man quickly let go of the rodent and brought the bite to his lips.

An awkward silence filled the room as the song finally ended…

"_**What a terrible thought…"**_

With his other hand, he slowly reached up and turned the knob of the radio to the off position. Linguini sighed and turned his attention back to what he should have been doing the whole time: finances.

"Okay," he nodded and moaned, "lets get this over with."

Thankfully, the previous organization had caused everything to fall into place easily and everything figured within only a matter of minutes.

"Done," he coughed as he put the rest of the money in an envelope marked "bank" and sealed it.

He gave a breath of relief and stretched out his arms in the air. Of course, he then noticed the other subject with him.

"Oh… yeah," he smiled shyly, "sorry about that."

Remy looked up at him a look of plain scorn; doing his best to stare the boy down.

"Ummm… Forgive me," Linguini coughed out in a questionable manner.

The rat took on the position of a thinking man; several positions in fact, standing mostly and with his hand in fist placed against his chin. It was enough so to make it look like he was actually considering leaving the boy and traveling far, far away. But then where would be the fun in that? He wouldn't have a bumbling side kick anymore if that happened, or even someone that he looked up to with great heart and joy.

Remy quickly fell onto all fours and climbed onto Linguini's shoulder. The human turned his head to look at the rodent, hoping for some kind of answer. He got it as Remy moved close to his cheek and nuzzled against it. The rubbing of the fur against his cheek caused Linguini to burst into a light giggle, feeling almost like a sort of vengeance.

"Okay! Okay! I get it," Linguini chuckled.

Slowly, Remy pulled back and adopted the same goofy smile his human companion had.

"C'mon," the human boy said, "we should clean up and close. It's starting to get a little late. I'm ready to go home."

And the truth was, so was Remy. He was ready to go home to his little bed on the windowsill, staring out unto a beautiful view of Paris. He looked forward to watching the romantic sight, which even Linguini would watch before he too would hit the sack.

It was thoughts like that that caused Remy to smile in happiness. He so loved Linguini. Sometimes he wondered if it was something more a friendship or companion type of love. They were buddies after all, and were always there through the thick and thin of everything. If they weren't, then they wouldn't have been in the position they were in. They wouldn't have their own bistro, and they wouldn't be "partners in crime".

Then again, there were some days when Remy would wonder if it wasn't only love he had for him, but if he was actually in love with him. It does sound strange, and that is true. But, sometimes… when Remy sees that smile on Linguini's face, and everything seems to come out perfectly in the day, he wonders… if it were true. He wasn't quite sure though, and it only saddened him in the end. Knowing that Linguini was human, and he was a rat. Nothing could ever come of it. Even more so, he knew that he was over a year old, and knows that his species don't love past three usually, at max five if they took care of themselves.

What then?

The lights in the bistro turned off quickly in a strange soft manner. Linguini gave his rat friend a little pet on the head.

"Let's go home," he said opening the back door into an alley way with keys in hand.

What then, Remy pondered in his head. Would he even remember the Little Chef in the years after his death? Would he even care?

Suddenly, this rodent did not feel so good, perched on his loves shoulder.

What a terrible thought…

_**Être continué...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: I finished this story in its entirety a couple of months ago, and now I bring it hear to those of you who wish to read it. Lets begin by saying that this is a three-part Ratatouille fanfic special. Yay! Also, if any body has the chance, try to listen to POE's Haunted album. It's incredible, and it's the inspiration to this ficcie.

_So Until Next Chapter…_

_Adieu…_


	2. Chapitre Deux

**Pensée Terrible – Chapitre Deux**

By _DemiHuman123_

**----------------------------------------**

I don't own the Pixar movie Ratatouille. I don't own Linguini, Collette, Skinner, the rats, or the awesomeness that is Remy. Disney, Pixar, and Brad Bird own them, so nobody better come and sue me because I got a copyright up so I'm fine. I think.

**----------------------------------------**

**RATING: **PG – One-Sided Slashiness

**INSPIRATIONS: **And the tri-chapter story continues on! Again, the inspiration of this should be the obviously brilliant movie itself… and my own insanity!

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Luckily, their home wasn't too far off from the bistro. Only about a fifteen to twenty minute walk away. Colette's was a little farther, but close by Linguini and Remy's apartment, making it easier to visit one another.

Linguini was overly worried about his girlfriend's health, even if it was just a sore throat at the time. He had decided to go visit her the next morning to see if there was anything he could do to make her feel better. After all, that's what any man would do for their girl. Isn't it?

"I hope she doesn't get angry when I visit her," he muttered. The last time he went over to her place, he was uninvited and entered her home without permission. Needless to say, he was kicked out almost immediately and slapped several times before that. He should have known better than to enter her home while she was changing into her work uniform. Bad move overall. Regardless…

It was a beautiful night tonight. Everyone seemed to be outside walking around and enjoying the night air. The temperature was somewhat warm, but not too cold either. The stars in the sky shone brightly and magnificently revealing a pale and large half moon floating silently in the cloudless high.

Paris, France was certainly a beautiful town, come day or night. Even more so, the town was still bustling with fun and games all around. Late night clubs had just recently opened up, bars and the such began allowing people in, and side venues and musicians sang contently trying to earn a little of their keep.

Remy loved this side of the town. Work was done and it was time to go home. On the way, he would see some beautiful sights and great attractions that were always awe inspiring. Of course, it was always difficult to try and watch some of these attractions when so many considered you a walking disease. That's why he had decided to just stay on Linguini's shoulder for the duration of their walk, even if people looked at the two of them disgustingly.

Though, it was not the first time they had been seen together- every so often at work, Linguini would bring the food in with Remy either sitting on his shoulder, on his head, telling the customers that this was their spokes rat. People were still taken aback by that, but since the rat was so behaved, they automatically assumed domestication and already cleaned and had shots. It wasn't exactly what Remy had in mind when greeting the crowds, but it at least got him a little recognition.

Speaking of the rat, he had unfortunately caused himself to fall into a depression before leaving the bistro. Sometimes thinking too much about the future can do that to a person. It wasn't as though Linguini didn't notice though. He had known the rat long enough to know when something was wrong.

"Something wrong Little Chef," he asked.

Remy snapped out of his mental world and attempted to address his friend, but gave up knowing that they didn't speak the same language.

Linguini still understood something was wrong some what, and gave his friend a little pet on the head.

"Thanks," the rat chirped out.

Still smiling with concern, Linguini turned his attention back on the road to try and get home.

This rodent didn't feel so well anymore. He was beginning to think too far into things and it was causing problems on the inside. Lately, that seemed to be happening at a much more frequent pace. It's not like he was unhappy all the time, no, no, far from it.

When he was in the kitchen, he was the happiest dang animal around. That little rat could be seen dancing around with the food, flipping back and forth from one place to another with the spices, and even wrestling with Colette's fingers for that last piece of ginger root when they were both feeling playful.

Between the two of them, Remy and Colette were in a strange little competition in the kitchen. They fought excessively over who could finish what the fastest, or even who could impress the customers the most with their food. Even more so, they fought over scarce food. It was surprising how well Remy could use a wooden spoon as a javelin/sword/dagger/axe/spear combination.

It also surprised him just how limber Colette was in her evasion and speed techniques. Of course, seeing as she took gymnastics in high school, it helped. Then again, it could also be from some of her more promiscuous college days that she accidentally let slip one day when in a bad mood. Everyone felt the wrath of her scorn then.

She was particularly skilled at throwing blades too… which scared the living ghost out of Remy. How many times did one of those cleavers almost get his tail? Or for that matter, cut Linguini's nose.

Their competition raged on everyday without end. But this competition had more than one event in it. She knew…

She knew… how her rat rival looked at him. How much Remy loved being close to Linguini, and even how he acts when the human male isn't around at all. She knew that Remy acted more human than rat sometimes, and that includes an emotional sense too. Maybe she thought it just attachment, or maybe it was simple friendship, but she knew something was up with Remy.

"Little Chef!"

Remy quickly found himself shocked out of the past and back into the present. Finding him self back on that little road to their home, to a place with a goodnights rest.

"Maybe you just need some sleep," Linguini added as he observed his friend, "I bet you'll feel better after that."

His little rat friend nodded sincerely and tried to look on forward. Maybe a good night's sleep would help. Working late and then getting up early was never good on the body, especially when you're a little rat chef whose heart beats much faster than a humans.

"I am a little tired," Remy thought to himself. Maybe he could just blame his streak of depression on a lack of sleep, or from working twice as hard today. Everything still felt a little heavy in his head.

He had then noticed that his "ride" had stopped moving forward, and was glancing at something to the side of some open all-night café.

Curiously, Remy climbed up Linguini's neck and up atop his head, something the red headed male was used to by now. On top, he could see exactly what the human was looking at: A beautiful woman, sitting quite peacefully on the sidewalk concrete.

She sat there holding a rather large and ordinary acoustic guitar that she happily plucked away, one finger after the other. She stared at the crowd with pride and accomplishment, allowing words to flow out of her mouth and into the air in a beautiful way. And what a way… her voice was golden and peaceful. It was all so easy on the ears.

"_**Ce soir je broie du noir, je noie au bar…"**_

(This evening I feel crushed, so I drown at the bar…)

Her voice carries beyond the streets, attracting people near by to gather and listen to her talent.

This woman's voice, though beautiful and pleasing to the ear, sounded very sad and melancholy in her delivery, almost as if she too felt the scorn of being let down or hurt.

Remy took it as a sign of things that just seem to continually make him feel worse as the night went on. Why did he have to feel so down on days like this? It was the perfect night for him too. Everyone was out having fun, he wouldn't have to worry about work the next day, and everything would come out much easier and smoothly… but tonight…

"She's not half bad," Linguini blurted out loud.

The singer gave him a quick glance and smiled to acknowledge his neutral compliment. Then, while still singing, she tilted her head to the side slightly while still gazing at him. She never missed a pluck of the guitar, or a lyric of the song. All she did was sit there playing her guitar, with a slightly tilted head.

Now, Linguini gave her a funny look, unsure what it was she was looking at. And then, like a mach truck, it hit him. He knew exactly what she was looking at. Slowly, he turned to look around himself. Everyone all around him was staring now; staring at the tall lanky red headed kid with the rat on his head.

Remy unfortunately noticed this too.

"Here it comes," the two of them thought.

A woman screamed, a man fainted, and a child laughed.

Clear from right out of the blue, a purse slammed itself right against Linguini's face, flooring him hard, and projecting Remy across the street on to the road.

His vision went blurry from flying around, and hitting the road. It took him a few seconds to realize where he had landed, soon noticing what was going on all around him. Cars came whizzing by one by one, causing the poor Remy to go into panic mode. He jumped up as fast as he could and zig-zagged his way back to the pavement.

Unfortunately, when he got there, he failed to notice the citizen's feet coming down in twos and threes and fours and fives. Jumping left, and right, up, and down, doing his best to avoid whatever he could.

One foot came down, and pinned his tail to the cement.

He looked up, and saw another foot about to crush him completely.

He quickly said a few last words, and covered his head, waiting for the impact of a loafer to bone.

A second past… then another… then another…

Wondering if death wasn't so painful after all, the Little Chef uncovered his eyes and looked around.

He was no longer on the road, but covered in the palms of Linguini, who was at this moment, running as fast as he could, darting from one alley way to the other.

It was such a shame that their sight seeing had to be cut short thanks to some screaming pedestrians, a curious singer, and an alley way detour that added an addition fourty-five minutes to their usual route home.

The two boys lay against the wall of an alleyway right across the street from the very apartment complex that they happened to live at. They were completely out of breath from running all the way home: Linguini from doing all that sprinting, and Remy from taking over half way when Linguini collapsed and could "move no more".

"Well," the human panted, "at least we made it home."

Remy nodded in agreement from atop Linguini's hair.

"Just give me," Linguini continued, still out of breath, "just give me a couple of more minutes, and we can walk right over to the apartment."

Walk right over. Walk right over a whole fifty feet in front of them.

Tired, and ready for the rest of this horrid day to end, Remy quickly tugged at his friend's hair, regaining control over him.

Linguini suddenly felt his arms and legs go limp and take on a mind of their own. "Oh c'mon, Little Chef… can't we rest just for a minute?"

Honestly, Remy just wanted to get back to his bed and sleep off whatever misery and woe was left swimming in his system. But still… Linguini did save his life… again…

He leaned over the red hair and looked deep into Linguini's eyes. It was hard to say no after seeing that, so he instantly let go of the hair and allowed the boy to regain control again.

"Thanks…"

"Your welcome," Remy said in a somewhat uncaring and sarcastic manner, "I just wanna get some sleep."

At the moment, he really didn't wanna think about anything else. His mind was still too preoccupied with that terrible thought.

_**Être continué...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: This was a rather weak chapter unfortunately: and feel free to be honest about it in your reviews. It's basically just Linguini and Remy walking home from the bistro. I'm not particularly impressed with this one right here, but oh well. Can't do much of anything about it at this moment. The next chapter though, I absolutely loved writing, so get ready kiddies!

_So Until Next Chapter…_

_Adieu…_


	3. Chapitre Troix

**Pensée Terrible – Chapitre Trois**

By _DemiHuman123_

**----------------------------------------**

I don't own the Pixar movie Ratatouille. I don't own Linguini, Collette, Skinner, the rats, or the awesomeness that is Remy. Disney, Pixar, and Brad Bird own them, so nobody better come and sue me because I got a copyright up so I'm fine. I think.

**----------------------------------------**

**RATING: **PG – One-Sided Slashiness

**INSPIRATIONS: **Final chapter. Movies coming out on DVD here pretty soon, so it's gonna be a sweet November.

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Though they may have moved into a far more extravagant and pricey apartment, it still retained that sub par feeling the last place had. This time though, they had more space to trash the rooms out. Well, Linguini actually did all the trashing in the apartment, while Remy did his best to at least keep his part of the home (a window sill by the stairway with some doll furniture and torn pieces of paper from several recipe books) as clean as he could. The rest of the place on the other hand…

"You know," Linguini groaned, "we should probably go ahead and clean up this place sometime."

It was something he said every time they came home from work. Not all that surprising anyways. The floor had grown dirty and worn, and could use a good mopping. The living area was more or less destroyed with scattered magazines and movie cases thrown around here and there. His upstairs bedroom was tattered and ragged. The boy never made his bed, used a faulty alarm clock, and had a bed frame that was rusting and snapping every night.

The kitchen on the other hand, since this was a Remy designated area, was perfectly clean and proper. The counters shined and showed no grimace of dirt or smudge. It had become apparent that the rat was obviously a clean freak.

"Home sweet home," Linguini said as he slowly brought on a smile.

He still had the Little Chef sitting silently on his head, lost among the overgrown red hair.

The rat shuffled through the curls leisurely and shook his head. "You know, you should probably get a haircut," he moaned, "especially if you're going to be working in a kitchen."

The squeaking caught the human's attention, causing his smile to become a small laugh. "I bet you think I need a haircut, huh?"

Remy didn't give a response to the human, but instead, jumped off his head onto his shoulder, and made his way down the body to the floor. His feet made little stepping sounds on the hard wood floor as he scurried around the apartment.

Linguini didn't seem to mind him jumping off, just giving it a shrug and walking over to the living area. He plopped himself down onto the couch, picked up the TV remote, and allowed his body to unwind and relax.

_Click_

"_**Try now to take the next step…"**_

_Click_

"_**I thought you should know that he died today, he closed his eyes and left you at 12:03…"**_

_Click_

"_**What is your greatest worry, cause you seem to be worried all the time."**_

"_**Sometimes I can't hear myself…"**_

"_**You'll have to speak a little louder, I-I can't understand a word your saying."**_

"_**Sometimes I can't hear myself…"**_

_Click_

"_**It's okay, you can go now."**_

_Click Click Click_

Nothing seemed to be on the tube tonight. Then again, it was after dark and the only people who are usually up this late are college students and loafers, and Linguini wasn't a college student. He was very happy with his high school diploma, "thank you very much".

He decided to give it one more click, causing it to land on some French talk show with some guy giving a monologue. The jokes were somewhat funny, at least the ones he could understand. Linguini's French was good, but not great. The boy knew just enough to get by though at least. The rest he could just pick up from Colette.

"There's never anything on," he sighed quietly, "maybe I should fork over the extra cash and just get cable."

He put the controller down and turned his head toward the Little Chef's "room". "What do you think little guy?"

Usually, Remy would give some sort of squeak that would give him a little smile or laugh, and cause Linguini to return to his repetitive and mindless laziness.

But there was no response.

"Hey," he directed at Remy.

But there was no response.

"Hey, you there, Little Chef?"

But there was no response.

Slightly concerned now, Linguini picked himself up from off his couch and walked steadily over to the staircase, wondering what the problem was.

The window sill was perfectly silent, moonlight hitting everything on it just right. It was never enough light to keep the little rodent awake, but it was just enough to make it quite the view.

In the little bed that lay on the sill was a small lump that seemed to be breathing. Linguini smiled and poked at it once. No response; so he poked at it again.

"Asleep already," he asked Remy.

With that little statement, the rat poked his face out from under the covers and looked over at the red head with dread on his face. Knowing the rat long enough, Linguini knew that look.

He gradually knelt down on the staircase in order to come face to face with his furry friend. "You've been like this all night haven't ya?"

Remy couldn't hide anything from him, so he nodded.

Linguini gave a concerned breath, and sat down on one of the steps, leaning up against the wall as he did.

"Is it about Colette?"

He shakes his head.

"Is it about the bistro?"

He shakes his head.

"Is it about me?"

Finally getting the question right, Remy nods slowly at him.

"Oh," the red head replied, "so it's about me? Something wrong? Is it the new TV? It's a little extra but I think it was worth it."

That wasn't it, though Remy did believe that the new TV Linguini had purchased was just way too big and way too expensive.

Speaking of which, the dang thing was still on, blaring at a rather high volume. Linguini obviously forgot (the better word actually being "spaced out") to turn it off, so that French talk show was still up and running. The host had just finished telling some joke that the boys clearly didn't hear. The crowd went silent as he announced that they had a special musical guest.

Linguini turned his attention to the box for a second. "Didn't we hear her earlier on the radio?"

The woman singer on the TV entered the sound stage and sat down pleasantly onto the couch next to the host.

Not taking anymore interest, Linguini turned his attention back on his rat friend.

His face was filled with worry for the Little Chef, but he still did his best to wear a smile and give the rodent some hope.

"You know," Linguini began, "whatever it is, you shouldn't worry about it. I'm proud of you no matter what."

Remy perked his eyes up the moment he said that.

"_**If you were here, I know that you would truly be amazed, at what's become of what you made.**_

_**If you were here, you would know how I treasured everyday.**_

_**How every single word you spoke, echoes in me like a memory of hope."**_

"Proud of me," Remy thought to himself.

And that was right. Linguini was proud of him. He had always been proud of him, especially through all the ordeals that they both had gone through in the past.

"I honestly don't know what's bothering you Little Chef," he continued, "but I just thought that maybe if you heard me tell you how proud I am of you that it would make you feel better."

The little animal found himself crawling out of the bed.

"I know that… that things have been kind of hard lately- what with me dating Colette, and Ego jumping down our throats about every little thing, and being understaffed and all that stuff- but… you shouldn't be so sad. I mean, c'mon Little Chef…"

Remy paced forward slowly.

"You don't deserve to be sad! You're the one who keeps us all together! You're the one with talent! You're the one who helped us get a business!"

Linguini paused to lower his voice. "You're the one who even helped me get Colette. And… you really made me happy cause of that. So why should you be so unhappy when you should be the hyper one?"

The boy slowly reached out his hand toward the window sill, offering it to his friend. Remy hastily obliged and climbed aboard. He then stared up at his human companion and into his eyes.

"_**When you were here, you could not feel the value that I placed on every look that crossed your face.**_

_**When you were here, I did not know just how I had embraced all that you hid behind your face."**_

"I know," Linguini began again, "that we don't have a lot of time together, but…"

He took a deep breath.

"I don't think you should worry about something like that. It may not be a lot of time, but it's still time we get to be friends."

Remy noticed that the boy was having trouble getting those words out. Linguini always did have trouble with saying some of the right things sometimes. But then he said something that just seemed to wash everything away.

"We are still friends, aren't we?"

"_**Could not hide from me, cause it hid in me too."**_

Suddenly… everything that felt bad was gone. All the misery, and pain, and angst was gone. In its place lay calm silence and hope.

"Of course we are," Linguini continued trying to gather some of his own courage, "why wouldn't we be?"

Remy sat dumbstruck on his friend's palm. Just a little sentence was enough to completely make him forgot why he was so depressed in the first place.

"How about that, Little Chef? Umm… do you feel any better maybe?"

The little rat, Remy: always the strange one. Once upon a time, he met this strange looking human boy who took him for what he was. This boy did not see the little rodent as a disease, but as a gift. Maybe even a gift from above. Together, they were able to unlock both their true potential and hope for the future, when they both thought there was none. It is odd to know that a human and rat could become dear friends, but it works, and it fits. True, something like that does not make sense, but most of the greatest parts of life never do.

"_**Now that I'm here, I hear you, and wonder if maybe you can hear yourself.**_

_**Ringing in me now that you're somewhere else, cause I hear your strange music, gentle and true."**_

"I do…," Remy said, "I do feel better. Thanks Linguini."

The boys smile widened, seeing that the look in his buddy's eyes had changed. He nodded and considered it a good sign, and for a moment, there was nothing to exchange. That is, until a thought suddenly crossed Linguini's mind.

"So… is there anything else about you that I need to know?"

Remy was taken aback at first, but instead of wondering why Linguini would ask something like that, thought long and hard about the question. Suddenly, without a thought, he jumped off of Linguini's hand and scurried speedily down the stairs and around the room.

Linguini looked on with a little confusion and interest. The rat had begun running around the living area, tearing up magazine and newspaper articles. The human began to wonder what his friend was doing.

When all was said and done, the place was even more destroyed and out of it than usual. In the center of the room stand the rodent looking all content and pleased with himself. Linguini, still confused, slowly got up and approached the rat hesitantly.

"Wha?"

"_**Singing inside me with the best parts of you, now that I'm here.**_

_**I hope somewhere you hear them too, now that I'm here."**_

Words, letters, pictures, everything torn and strewn all over the place. But the rat had done it all with a purpose in mind. In front of him lay only four letters…

R…

E…

M…

Y…

Linguini stood in complete perplexity. What the heck was that supposed to mean?

"What's a, Reemi… err, Rimi… err, Remy?"

When he finally got it right, Remy nodded ecstatically and almost instantly began to run toward the boy.

"Remy," he repeated with the same confusion in his voice, "what's a Remy?"

He said his name. He actually said his name, and for the first time at that. It felt great. It felt like he had met with the boy again for the first time. A sweeping feeling of joy and bliss washing over any of that rat angst that was still attempting to take over- all from his own name.

Remy steadily jumped onto the boys pant leg, and made his way back up via the front of his shirt. It proved a bit much for him as he got half way up and stammered. His grip failed him and he began to fall. But he didn't crash. He was caught; caught in the arms of the one whom he had been obsessing about all night.

Linguini cupped him close to his stomach using both arms, making sure that the poor rat didn't fall again.

The Little Chef didn't make his way back up though this time, instead gave up and remained in the boys arms.

They both smiled.

Linguini, seeing some strange sort of closure in the whole ordeal, slowly made his way back to the couch and laid down, carefully putting Remy on his chest.

The lady singer on the television had already exited off the stage and was receiving a round of applause for her beautiful song. Linguini didn't pay much mind to her singing so he wasn't sure what all the fuss was about. Instead, all he did was focus on that little lump that was looking back at him.

"Hey," Linguini said, "is Remy your name?"

Remy, the Little Chef, laughed. No longer worried by such a terrible thought.

_**Fin**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: If anyone has any sense in their minds they will listen to POE's Haunted album which was the major inspiration for this fic. Speaking of which, it's done now. Tell me what you all think! w00t w00t! I don't think I have anything else to say now.

_So Until Next Fic…_

_Adieu…_


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